


Personal

by Ill_write_it, Iron_Mage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, Alcoholism, BDSM, Body guard! Benny, Contract, Dean in Denial, Dom!Castiel, Endverse!Castiel, Leather, M/M, Prostitution, Spanking, Sub!Dean, Suspension, Top!Castiel, bottom!Dean, kind of, leather harness, leather pants, rich!dean, this boy is a bottom, worker!castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-08-23 09:22:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8322499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ill_write_it/pseuds/Ill_write_it, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron_Mage/pseuds/Iron_Mage
Summary: Dean Winchester is one of the richest men alive. He had everything! Everything! There was absolutely nothing he could possibly want. Then, he accidentally stumbles into a sex club late at night and realises that he does want something and he's willing to pay for him.





	1. Chapter One

Dean couldn't sleep, he tossed and turned in his Egyptian cotton sheets, eventually giving up and tossing them to the floor. Turning onto his front and resting his chin on the pillow. It didn't make sense! He'd exercised in the daytime, gone to sleep at a reasonable time. He just felt so frustrated. Dean rolled over again. Curling his toes and flexing his legs. What was missing? He cuddled around the pillow and tried to get back to sleep.

Waking up in a nest of pillows was a pleasant experience, but it didn't dull the loneliness throbbing from Dean's chest. Or was that hunger? His stomach growled - yup! Hunger. The sleepy man made his way down the spiral staircase and through the dining hall to the kitchen - still totally naked - and began to make himself some food. 

Chewing on his pancakes his thoughts drifted: was he lonely? He'd never really considered it before, being the son of one of the richest women in the world meant that he didn't have to. Sure, he'd had plenty of sex, beautiful women doing anything he asked for. Stunning blondes, ravishingly red heads. But never anything really, for lack of a better word: emotionally invested. The last time he'd tried long term...Dean tried to distract himself by fetching some syrup from one of the high cupboards in the huge kitchen and then settled back into his stool at the kitchen table; usually reserved for staff or his lazy Saturday mornings. 

He had earned this breakfast and he treated it accordingly, cramming forkfuls of syrupy pancake into his mouth and chewing contentedly.

"Mister Winchester?" A voice called from the hallway.  
"In here!" Dean answered, his mouth still full of pancake.  
"Ah, Mister Winchester." A man wearing a smart shirt and pants stepped through the doorway and coughed in distress upon seeing Dean's state of dress.  
"Um, Mister Winchester," he coughed again, evidently uncomfortable.  
"What happened to Francis?"  
"Francis is off sick today sir, I've taken his place. I hope that's acceptable, sir."  
"Sure," Dean wasn't keen on the title, he'd never really felt like a 'sir' "give him my best." Dean tucked into his pancakes once again.  
"I will sir, I'm sure he'll feel better soon. Is there anything you need sir?" He seemed skittish.  
"Is that why you came here?" Dean said exasperated.  
"Yes Mister Winchester. I was told to check on your wellbeing every three or so hours out of politeness and earlier if you looked distressed."  
"Huh."  
"Is that not to your liking Mister Winchester." The man asked a little nervously.  
"No, no. It's fine. Really, I don't mind. You can drop the title: call me Dean."  
"Of course, Dean."  
"Cool, well. I'm going to finish this and then take a show- shit!" Dean luged for a tea towel that was hanging off of the own. "Jesus, I am really sorry." He chuckled draping the tea towel across his lap to cover himself.  
"It's quite alright sir."  
"Would you mind grabbing me a bath robe?"  
"Of course sir." The man disappeared.  
Dean continued his pancakes, blushing furiously. He was so used to Francis waking him at 8 with a robe and breakfast. He checked the clock, 6am. Running a hand over his tired face he waited for his temporary manservant to return.  
"Yo."  
"Here's your bathrobe, Dean."  
"Thanks , hey I didn't catch your name?"  
"Adam,"  
"Awesome." Dean stuck out his hand. "Dean, Dean Winchester. And you've been aquatinted with the rest of me. Sorry about that." He winked.  
Adam took his hand and shook firmly, chuckling lightly.  
"It's quite alright, Mister Winchester. Quite alright."


	2. Fake it till you make it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean heads out.

Lonely, Dean thought again as the grabbed a t-shirt from his drawer. Lonely? He furrowed his brow. The soft cotton dragged over his sensitive nipples and he thought about his plans for this evening, he smiled in anticipation.  
A new bar had opened in town; the music was good, the girls were hot....and kinky, if the sex club next door was anything to go by. A sex club, in a tiny little town like this. It was weird. But Dean wasn't going to argue, not if it involved scantily clad women and alcohol. His kind of thing.   
He did the buckle of his belt on his jeans and sauntered out of his room humming some Metallica song. "Adam," He called out, Adam appeared beside him.   
"How may I help you?" He copied Dean’s pace as they made their way down the hallway, Dean stopped to talk to him.   
"I was going to go and work on the impala for a bit, mind organising my trip to that new bar in town? Escorts and what not."   
"Yes sir, right away." Dean ignored the 'sir' and continued to make his way down the stairs and across the hallway into the garage.   
"Thank you Adam," He said as he exited the staircase.   
"Thanks, you can go do that now." He said again, Adam hadn't taken the hint and was still hovering by Dean's side as the opened the garage door.   
“Oh, right, sorry.” Adam briskly made his way to another part of the house.   
This house was way too big for him. He'd told his mother as much when she'd bought it for him. Way too big. All he needed was somewhere safe for his Baby, a big soft bed for his 'night time activities' and a shower with decent water pressure. This house had all that and a lot more.   
He wasn't new to the concept of money, nor was he unfamiliar with having gift's lavished upon him. But he still didn't like the idea of all of this space going to waste. People were starving. He didn't need to heat a six bedroom house when he was the only person living in it.  
Although, some good had come out of this ridiculous luxury: The housekeeping budget was ludicrous enough that, if he chose to, he could employ half the town. He had instead chosen to donate half of the monthly allowance to a local youth charity and paid the rest to his many employees, most of which would have been struggling financially if Dean had not given them the opportunity to work for him. Selecting them off the streets and providing them with enough income to live comfortably. He knew how it felt to be homeless. His dad had made sure of that.   
He liked to think he was a nice boss, fair at least. He thought back to Adam, poor kid was trying so hard. Dean ought to be nicer to him, or at least make sure he was giving him clear instructions, reduce Adam’s anxiety over the ‘proper’ next move. Had he given him clear instructions? It still troubled him as he lifted to hood of the impala. Going over his responses to Adam’s behaviour.  
Beautiful, he almost wolf whistled. It was a little unhealthy how attractive he found his car. "Hey Baby," He smiled as he checked the oil. Perfect. He frowned as he realised that he might have to find a new project.   
Nine o'clock came quicker than he had expected, he finished his tumbler of whisky and headed back upstairs, showering and then selecting his outfit for the evening.   
He wanted to look presentable, good even. Firstly so he would be photogenic in case the press decided to stop by, and secondly because that way he'd be ten times more likely to score himself a one night stand.   
There it was again - that pang of something. Deep in his chest. Maybe he had indigestion or something?   
He pulled on his leather jacket and headed out the door, Adam dutifully locking it behind him and then dutifully wishing him a “Have a good evening, Mr. Winchester.” Dean returned the notion and climbed into the back of the car that was waiting for him.  
Dean poured himself a drink from the mini fridge in the back of the car, downing it in one. Confidence, he told himself. Confidence is key. He was going to score tonight, chicks dug his dominant demeanour. He took another swig from the bottle mentally bracing himself to be ‘Dean Winchester’ again just before he stepped out of the door. Then he saw them. Great, the paparazzi had found him, the bar owners were going to be all over him, offering him free everything in the hope he’d recommend them. Fan-fucking-tastic. Dean Winchester, confidence, cockiness, dominance. He stepped out of the car into the onslaught of camera flashes, a coy smirk playing across his face. Fake it till you make it, right.


	3. Panic! At the bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's hero saves him from a pushy chick.

He smiled as the answered the stranger’s questions, he smiled as he received a shirt to sign, and he even smiled when a reporter asked him if he knew about what had happened to his father. Of course he knew about his father! But he entertained her nonetheless.  
He pushed his way through the crowd into the bar where women threw themselves at him, this was more like it.  
"Dean, Dean! Over here."  
"Mr Winchester, your work in Kenya is amazing!” "Dean, you're so handsome! Dean!"  
"Say the word," A large man appeared beside him, it was Benny, his body guard offering him a way out. All he had to do was excuse himself and Benny would rescue him from what he perceived to be an absolute nightmare, how had the press found him. Benny took this as a threat to his social security, Dean however just saw it as annoying; he didn't mind the lime light, but he had intended to have a quiet night out.  
The music was turned up as more people crashed into the bar and the women slowly dispersed, not wanting to appear clingy. Dean made his way over to Benny,  
"Get me a drink, get yourself one too." He patted his friend on the shoulder. Benny headed towards the bar.  
"Mr. Winchester! Dean Winchester." A leftover reporter made her way over to Dean, clutching her Dictaphone as she pushed through the throb of intoxicated dancers.  
"Why hello there," Dean smiled his signature, panty-dropping smile. She seemed unaffected.  
"My name is Ana Milton. I'm with the New York Times." She said, shit.  
"That's nice," Dean interrupted, looking around for Benny...he had a feeling this was going to get out of hand.  
"What do you have to say about the recent actions of your father?" Ana pressed, holding her Dictaphone up. Dean scratched the back of his head, sweating nervously - its one thing to be ambushed on your way in but this was a new low for the press. What could he do? He began to walk away.  
"Dean, Dean! What do you think of Mary Winchester's choice to merge with-" She was cut off by the music, Dean tried to hide himself in the crowd. He was getting closer and closer to the wall. Hyperventilating, suddenly the club seemed so small, he felt so trapped. His heart about to jump out of his chest. He couldn't breathe.  
"Dean! Mr. Winchester. Do you have anything to say on recent events within politics?" This was getting ridiculous, how was she still following him? He had to get out of here! Where was Benny? Dean ducked out of her vision, his back pressed against the wall, he was struggling to breathe. Distress evident on his face.  
"Come with me," A deep voice startled him as a hand reached out, Dean looked at the hand in fear. "You're having a panic attack, come with me." The voice repeated calmly, Dean took his hand and was pulled though a doorway. The door closed behind him.  
The man walked him though a dark corridor, never letting go of his hand. Dean's breathing was amplified in the silence. He tried to keep track of where he was going, left, right, left again. Another door. The man unlocked it one handed and threw it open, pulling Dean into the cool night air. "Do you need to sit down?" The man asked, he was easier to see in the moonlight. Dark messy hair, pale skin. The bluest eyes. Dean shook his head, no he didn't need to sit down.  
"Take deep breaths." He instructed, running his hand over Dean's back. Dean tried to do as he was asked. "You're doing really well," The man said soothingly, looking straight into Dean's soul. They stood like that for a little while, with Dean relaxing into his touch. Until Dean's breathing had slowed and his heart rate had returned to normal.  
"Thank you," He said quietly, the silence making it seem a lot louder.  
"Here," The man retrieved something from his pocket. Dean saw now that he was wearing baggy trousers with huge pockets. It was a water bottle. "Drink this," Dean's mouth suddenly felt a lot drier. He's not supposed to get his own drinks, never mind accept drinks from strangers. The man noticed his reluctance. "Trust me," Dean felt obliged to obey. He took the water and sipped at it, date rape drugs taste salty...right? It tasted fine, it tasted like water. The man chuckled at Dean's obvious look of relief.  
"Thank you, again, seriously. Thank you." Dean said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.  
"Any decent person would've done it," He replied, rubbing Dean's back again. It felt intimate. Dean moved away, fractionally. The man stopped and pulled his hand back to his side, as if sensing Dean's discomfort. Man, he was really perceptive. Dean continued to marvel at his rescuer.  
"Dean!" A familiar voice called, Benny!  
"Hey Benny, I'm round here." He turned to the stranger. "You better leave, Benny might...ask questions later."  
The man nodded and disappeared from the door from which they had emerged, leaving Dean in the alley way to deal with his body guard who seemed to be having a heart attack.  
"What the fuck!" Benny shouted, punching him in the shoulder. "You could have told me where you went, Brother! If Bobby finds out," Benny shivered at the thought of the head of Dean's security, he didn't like Benny at the best of times.  
"I won't tell him if you don't." Dean offered meekly.  
"Are you kidding me?" Benny said, punching him again.  
"Ow!" Dean scoffed.  
"We're going home. Now." Benny said, texting the driver. "And don't fucking disappear again." He warned.  
Dean shrugged, "Got it."  
"I'll call Bobby." Benny threatened.  
"Okay! Okay. I won't disappear." Benny nodded in acknowledgement.


	4. Dominance, Confidence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is turning into a really slow-burn... Sorry!

The crashing woke him up before his alarm, interrupting his wonderful dream; someone with the most magical blue eyes. The squeak of brakes, something was going on downstairs. More specifically something was going on directly below him.   
Dean rolled out of bed and grabbed his robe off the side table, Francis must be feeling better. Although he didn't find any breakfast.   
It'd been two days since the 'incident' and Dean was still on house arrest. He thought it was a bit much, but Bobby had been insistent and no one argues with Bobby. But he couldn't get the blue eyes of his hero out of his mind. How had he known what to do when Dean panicked like that? It felt so nice to be taken care of, not expected to just 'man up' and get over it. He was so lost in thought about the stranger that he practically fell down the stairs.   
But there were more pressing matters at hand; the room right below him was, after all, his garage: Where he kept his pride and joy.  
He wiped the sleep out of his eyes and opened the door. "What was all that -" Dean stopped. His baby. He ran over to her.   
"Who did this to her?" Dean tried to keep his cool but the rage was obvious in his clipped tone. He looked up from the damage; two young men caught one another’s eye, one of them was climbing out of Dean's new project, a beat-up 1969 Chevrolet Corvette. It was smoking at the front. They both looked rather sheepish.   
"It was him," One of them said, pointing to the other. Dean's face was like thunder.   
"No it wasn't! It was your fault!" The other boy looked betrayed.  
"You were driving!" He countered.  
"You said it was okay to keep reversing."   
"You could have looked!" The younger one whined.   
"It has no mirrors!"   
"You could have looked behind you dumbass!"   
"I was relying on you!" The older one said and at this his younger brother was silent. He'd let his brother down, that was something to be ashamed of.   
Dean was frozen, silent, his fists clenched at his sides in anger.   
"Move, before someone gets hurt." He grunted, the boys scattered glancing back at the damage they had done and shooting one another pained looks as they fled from the garage.  
His car, his beautiful car! He fell to his knees to inspect the damage.   
The dent wasn't too bad, it looked…fixable... but it would require another couple of hours work. Idiots. He counted to ten, he counted to ten again. He shouldn't have trusted them. He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes, wishing this was just a horrible nightmare. It wasn't.  
"Fuck," He sighed, he'd deal with it after breakfast. "Adam!" He shouted, as he came back into the house. He was not in a good mood.  
"Yes Mr. Winchester," Adam had apparently sensed his state of mind and was holding the cup of coffee Dean had been about to request.   
"You knew they were moving the car in without me?" Dean accepted the coffee, nodding his head in thanks, but not without suspicion.  
"I did suggest they stop and wait for you," Adam sighed. Dean still looked unimpressed "Suggested quite forcefully. But…”  
"Hmm." Dean said, sipping his coffee.   
"Teenagers." Adam offered, walking into the dining room, where Dean's breakfast was sitting adjacent to the head of the dark wood table. Adam had noticed Dean didn't like sitting at the head of the table.   
Dean threw himself in the smart looking chair and picked at his breakfast half-heartedly. He shouldn't sulk - the damage was done now.  
Dean's thoughts drifted to the mystery man again, he was haunting Dean's every waking moment… He was haunting Dean's every moment.  
Maybe he should go back? To the club, to see if he could find him again… He pondered it while he moved his food around the plate, hoping that it would look more appetising in the top left corner, as opposed to neatly piled in the centre. People are starving, he ate it with resignation, he hated to waste things.  
It would usually take him forty-five minutes to repair a minor dent like this. On his second look he had realised that it wasn’t half as bad as he had first assumed. The corvette had taken the brunt of the damage.   
Dean buzzed the intercom next to the garage and requested the two idiots that "Fucked up my car." They arrived promptly not wanting to upset him further.   
"We're really sorry." The older one said. Dean knew them from town, two brothers from the youth centre. Deans angry expression softened, he wasn't mad anymore - not really.   
"Driving a car is hard enough, especially considering your almost total lack of experience," Dean said. Confident, Dominant. He repeated his mantra as he scolded the boys. Guilt blossomed across their faces, the eldest braced himself for the shouting. "If you had waited for me, we could have done this together, and then I would have taken you both for a little drive in one of my other cars." He gestured to the other cars, covered with sheets about the garage. It was huge, after all. The boys nodded solemnly. "We now don't have time for that, because I have to fix this dent. So!" He inhaled sharply. "What we're going to do... I'm going to show you how to fix the dent. Together, we’re going to fix the damage on the front of the Corvette. Then, and only then, we are going to take her," He pointed to the corvette. “For a test drive, and I will show you how to park the damn thing." He paused, and then exhaled. "Are we clear?" He said softly. They were both smiling.  
"Thanks Dean," the youngest said; he was about thirteen, his older brother almost an adult. A similar age gap to the one Dean shared with his brother, Sam. The older brother nodded his head in thanks.   
In the end it took them just under two hours of hard work to fix the front of the corvette and replace some of the parts that were more than a little faulty, Dean wasn't a huge fan of being blown up.   
As for the impala, she was fine. Dean popped the dent out with little trouble, but warned the boys that next time it might not be so minor.  
Driving lessons were interesting, especially in an old car that had very temperamental breaks, no wonder they had struggled to park it in the garage. Dean ended up replacing the breaks out on the drive way. The younger boy - Lewis, with dark hair and brown eyes - really seemed to enjoy the finer parts of being a mechanic and was more than ready to lend Dean a hand with the breaks. Luca however, the other brother, was much more interested in driving. Not so much parking, but definitely speeding up and down Dean's private road. Dean wasn't much of a speed demon himself, but they weren't going too fast and Luca seemed to be enjoying himself. After that, Dean had given them lunch and then sent them home; with the promise that there would probably be more work for them in the future; they had beamed at that. Luca even hugged him!   
Dean was far too young to be their father, being only twenty six himself, but he felt a certain sense of paternity when he whispered his promise to Lewis that he would consider funding an apprenticeship as a mechanic if he kept up the good work. 

It was eight o'clock. Time for a shower and then maybe he'd watch some TV and head to bed. He turned the water on at his favourite temperature and allowed his thoughts to drift to a soothing voice he was finding it difficult to forget.   
What if that man was here to instruct him all the time, Dean wouldn't have to make any decisions, he relaxed against the cool tiles. A ridiculous idea but still, he started to imagine scenarios.   
The stranger telling him where to sit at parties, what to do in awkward situations. "Be silent Dean, you're suffering from social anxiety." The gravelly voice commanded as he slipped a phantom hand around his back.  
"Sit there, Dean," He demanded as Dean panicked whilst looking for a place to sit.   
Better still; "Sit on the floor beside me, Dean," Dean's hand drifted towards his cock, wet and covered in suds from his favourite apple scented soap. "Kneel beside me, Dean," He imagined that soothing hand in his hair. He ran his hand over his dick in tandem, hardening at his fantasy. What else would the gorgeous mystery man request of him?   
"Touch yourself, Dean." The imaginary figure told him, imaginary hands brushing over his pectorals. He was rock hard.  
"Yes," He whispered, obeying without question.  
"Yes, what?" The voice asked.   
He moaned loudly, glad the shower was sound proofed, "Yes, sir." Dean suddenly realised what he was doing, but not before it was too late and he was spilling his hot release over the tiles. He washed away the evidence, ashamed he had come to such a ludicrous fantasy.   
He was the man! - He told himself.   
He was the dominant one!   
"Dominance, confidence. Dominance, confidence." He repeated to himself quietly as he left the shower, his knees still quaking from his orgasm. What had he just done? Why had that turned him on so much?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday Night

"Dean?" Adam questioned, a look of determination crossed his boss' face as he violently procured his jacket from the coat hanger. "Mr. Winchester?" He followed him down the hallway. "Where are you going?"   
"I've come to a decision, come to a conclusion, made a conclusion...made a decision?" Dean stuttered, his arm not quite finding his sleeve. Adam smelt whisky.  
"What might that be sir?" Adam helped him put on his jacket.  
"Thank you. I'm going back to that bar!"   
"Did you enjoy your last visit?"   
"No." Dean looked insulted.   
"Do you think the press will leave you be this time?"   
"Yes, but it's not of importance." Dean said, lacing his boots. "I'm driving."   
"Alright sir. Did you meet someone?"   
Dean didn't reply, he simply closed the door behind him and headed over to the open door of the garage. He started the impala and pulled out of his mansion. Seeing Benny desperately getting into his own SUV to follow his mad employer. 

"Brother!" Benny cried, climbing out of the car and approaching Dean. Who was shivering, having just locked the impala and was about to head over to the entrance of the bar.   
It was a cool dark night, moonlight reflecting off the puddles. The bar was bound to be quiet; perfect time for some reconnaissance.  
"Hey," Dean stopped and greeted him, sticking his hands in his pockets.  
"Want to tell me the reason you decided to drive here at ten o'clock on a Monday night?" Benny asked sceptically as they began to walk together.   
"Not really." Dean said, and then chuckled.  
"A girl you like, or something." Benny prompted, still looking a little disbelieving.   
"Nah, you know me." Benny looked relieved, Dean didn't know what to think of that.   
They reached the entrance. Dean flashing his signature smile and being waved inside with overwhelming hospitality. He must like it, they thought, he's come back. Champagne on the house! Dean politely declined. He was here for one reason and one reason only. He had to see the blue eyed man again. He searched the wall for the hidden door. He found it, barely outlined against the black wall. 'staff only', Dean read the sign, that meant he had to work here.  
He sauntered over to the bar.  
"Hey, uh, can I see your manager?" The woman working seemed worried by his request,   
"Sure," She smiled falsely, putting down the glass she was polishing and heading through a set of double doors. Dean waited nervously for her return. 

"I know it's a weird request." Dean said to the smartly dressed woman frowning at him with dismay.  
"Our staff list? With pictures?"   
"Yes." Dean confirmed.   
"I don't think I can do that..." She worried her lower lip in an effort to seem attractive. Dean slid her a couple of hundred dollar bills.  
"Sure you can." He was going to find his blue-eyed beauty, one way or another. He had to talk to him, before the alcohol wore of. He had to...what exactly was he going to do?   
"Yes, actually." The woman pocketed the note. "I can definitley do that for you."   
Dean chose a quiet area of the bar, a booth, to sit down with Benny and sort through the profiles.   
"Not here!" Dean said exasperated, having gone through the pile for the second time. Benny looked confused, sifting through the paper.   
"I don't know who you're looking for, Brother." Dean hid his face in his hands. How was he ever going to find his hero?   
They both ordered themselves a couple of drinks and then Dean called it a night. What should he do? Stake out the damn bar for the next two weeks...'staff only' and yet the guy didn't work there.  
Maybe he was recently fired. No, they looked thought those.  
Maybe a regular? Dean asked three different bartenders, and the manager. No.   
He breifly entertained the idea of his mysterious hero being a robber, but there had been no recent bulgurlaries in the area.  
It was as Dean was getting into his car that he saw him. Loose pants, and a beige trench coat. Dropping the burning end of a cigarette and then crossing the road. Dean was frozen, he couldn't even call out to the man. He turned to check for oncoming traffic and Dean saw his eyes. His brilliant blue eyes. This was Dean's rescuer. He disappeared into an entrance around the side of a private building joined to the bar.  
"Where does that go?" He ran over to Benny's car.  
"Pardon, Brother?"   
"Where does that go? That door! Over there." Dean pointed more urgently.   
"I don't think you want to go in there." Benny chuckled.   
"Why not?"   
"That's the 'Den of Iniquity'" Benny sighed.  
"The what of in-what-ity?"   
"It's some kinky sex club." Benny elaborated. Dean looked stunned. He stood in silence, his warm breath creating tiny clouds of mist.   
"Home." Dean nodded, pulling his head back into play.   
"Come on, Brother."


	6. You can't handle it

It wasn't difficult to sneak out, it's not like he'd never done it before. He knew it was a bad idea. He knew why it was a bad idea. But he had his phone and if anything went wrong he would just call, or text, Benny or Bobby and tell them were he was. Easy. Simple. So why was he so nervous?

He'd driven there, after dismissing his staff and sending Benny home to his wife, Andrea. Telling him he just wanted to feel independent for a while. Benny had insisted Dean keep his phone in his room if he wasn't going to let security on the premise for the evening but Dean knew that Benny knew exactly what he was up to. This wasn't the first time he'd snuck out of the family residence and it probably wouldn't be the last.

'Den of iniquity' was a privately owned BDSM themed sex club. Run for profit by a man known as 'Crowley' although Dean doubted that was his real name. The employees weren't listed with images on the website and Dean had found no record of it as a business anywhere so he couldn't find out their real names. Their stage names were down right ridiculous. 

"'Master Azazel', 'The Chief", 'Mistress Meg' ?" He said quietly as browsed the pages of the website.

Who came up with these things?!

What was difficult was finding the entrance. Dean pulled his hood down as he stepped out of the rain to greet the bouncer. Shielded by the tiny porch outside of the club. 

"Proof of age. Forty dollar entry fee." He said with a tone that conveyed his complete and total boredom. Dean handed him the money and then waited to be let in.

"Really?" He sighed, the neon sign wasn't great lighting but damn it Dean was twenty six years old and he was done with this bullshit. The man raised an eyebrow. Dean pulled out his wallet again and showed him his drivers licence. 

"Alright." He said, opening the door and allowing Dean inside. Marilynn Manson played faintly in the background, Dean didn't recognise the song but he really recognised the style.

"Hey, buddy." Another bouncer? "Changing rooms that way." He pointed to a door, barely visible in the dark hallway. Dean looked confused." The rules are dress to impress, sugar, you can't look like that here." He stepped into the light, not a bouncer: a guy dressed entirely in black latex. Dean was taken back.

"Excuse me?" Dean said. The man smiled.

"Here, let me help you. What do you like? There's some spare stuff in the back." He took Dean's arm and pulled him to the door.

"I'm actually, uh, I'm looking for someone." Dean said, feeling very uncomfortable. 

"Aren't we all." the man sighed.

He looked ridiculous. Utterly ludicrous. But actually kind of hot... his conversation with latex guy had brought up a ton of questions Dean didn't know the answer to and some that Dean didn't want to know the answer to. What the fuck was 'shibari' and who was marquis des Sade? 

He was wearing some complex harness contraption, that latex- guy had adjusted to fit him, and his black jeans. He checked himself in the mirror. Nothing weird, it was like being shirtless. But with leather... and... who was he kidding? He looked kinky as fuck. 

"Come on!" Latex guy said, "my future dom might be waiting." He whined.

"Your future what?" Dean was pulled into the club. The music was a little louder in here to cover the moans. And the sound of whips, Dean was both terrified and very turned on. 

"Hello handsome." A brunette growled as she waltzed past him, whip in hand. 

"What just happened?" He turned to his friend eyes wide with fear. 

"Mistress Meg, she works here." Latex-guy shrugged.

"Isn't that illegal?" Dean replied.

"No. Unless you pay them to have sex with you, in which case... yes."

"Oh, okay." Dean said. Well now he felt stupid.

"Lets go see who's free, set you up for your first scene!" He said excitedly.

"My first what?" 

"Come on." He headed over to a board which listed all the available doms. "Some of them you can pay to have scenes with, they work here. Others are private and either do it for pleasure (doesn't everyone) or they've here with their subs." He said conversationally, scanning the board.

"How can you read that?" It was so dark in here. Latex guy shrugged again.

"Master Azazel is free but he's a bit heavy for your first time. The chief will probably try and have 'sexy times' later. He's soft, more about love making. Abandon bad for after care. Private Dom, private dom, private dom. Castiel's booked all evening. Maybe he'll make an exception, you're pretty cute. I wish I was a switch."

Dean was trying desperately to keep up. "What?"

"Oh relax! Its no bother. I'll catch him after his break. Let's dance. I'm going to go check in with Crowley see if he can set me up with one of the newer doms." He pulled Dean to the dance floor, "I'm an experienced submissive." He said smugly. Dean still looked confused.

The dance floor was surprisingly busy, there were three playrooms, six private playrooms and a large space upstairs called 'the floor' for exhibitionists. That was latex guys favourite place. He liked to be suspended in the middle of the room for new comers to admire. Dean couldn't imagine that, it seemed uncomfortable. 

"Sir!" Latex guy cried suddenly, abandoning his drink. "Sir!" He chased after the shirtless figure in the tight leather pants. Dean recognised that messy hair! His hero. He followed latex guy. 

"Hey, sir. This guy is new and -"

"Hey." Dean interrupted breathlessly, looking straight into his eyes. "I've been looking for you." Did that sound creepy... that sounded creepy. Dean blushed. The man tilted his head. Did he even remember Dean? "After you did that thing for me at the bar. I, uh, I wanted to say thanks." He looked surprised.

"What are you doing here?" He said in his gravelly voice. Surveying Dean's outfit with a furrowed brow. Dean shrugged and blushed again.

"I, uh." He scratched the back of his head. The man waited patiently for him to continue. "I, uh."

"Tell me." He said firmly.

Dean swallowed nervously, "I went back to the bar on Monday to say thanks and, I couldn't find you... I saw you going back in and I thought that you might be here today. You know... on a whim really. I don't know what gave me the, uh, confidence to-"

"It's alright."

"Cool."

The man sipped his drink "You should leave now..." Dean nodded slowly, "If that's all you have to say?" Latex guy had disappeared, sensing that this was a bit of a moment, he appeared to be flirting with one of the guys at the other end of the bar. 

Dean had to admit, he was intrigued by this shameless power play. Men stepping down from their traditional roles, he swallowed again. Castiel watched the man think through his decision.

"I, uh..." Dean stammered, not sure of what to say. "Thank you,"

"You already said that." The man smirked, watching Dean's distress as he tried to figure out what to say.

"How did you know?"

"Hmm?" Not the question he was expecting.

"How did you know I was panicking?" Dean said more confidently.

"When someone is having trouble in a scene, it's important to be able to recognise their tells. You're easy to read."

"Oh, uh. Thanks?"

"You should go home." The man said, "you aren't ready, you aren't capable." Pompous bastard. 

Dean was annoyed, yes he was new.. very new. But he'd be damned if this loser was going to tell him he wasn't 'capable'. Sex was sex, this just involved handcuffs.

"Yes I am," he said, standing his ground.

"Oh really?" He seemed amused, "ever done anything like this before."

"I handcuffed someone to a bed during sex once." Wow, he'd never told anyone that...

The man sniggered. "You are so far out of your depth." That was just plain rude.

"I am perfectly capable. Go on, I'll do anything." Dean said defensively.the blue eyed man sighed, running his hand over his face. 

"My eleven o'clock just cancelled." He said, Dean furrowed his brow in confusion. "Go to the office, fill out the limits form and then book me for eleven." He smiled, "I won't go easy on you, don't worry... Castiel by the way, in here anyway."

Dean just nodded and headed to the direction in which Castiel had pointed him. What had he just talked himself into?


	7. Chapter seven.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas goes so easy on Dean-O aww  
> Lil' Dean bean.  
> Chuck! It's so late. I hope this isn't shit...  
> I really hope I don't wake up and read this and think: "oh dear sweet lord chuck what is this crap and how did it write itself?"

"I didn't think you'd actually come." Castiel pursed his lips. Dean couldn't tell if he was impressed or surprised, or maybe both. He was shirtless, still. Wearing those tight leather pants that Dean found inexplicably hot. Wait, what? He wasn't gay?! Dean averted his eyes from Castiel's rounded butt and focused on the paper he had in his hands. Castiel turned around to face him. Oh great, just perfect. They had to look better from the front. 

"I didn't think I'd come. Some of those questions," Dean scratched the back of his neck, chuckling lightly. Castiel watched his every move with interest. "They were a little...uncomfortable."

"Which questions made you uncomforable?" Castiel asked, flicking through the paper work. 

"What are you-"

"I'm planning your scene. You can still leave, if you'd like?" Castiel said confidently, jotting something down on a notepad. 

They were in one of the upstairs, more private playrooms. Dean had no idea how much this would cost. He'd brought enough cash to pay for an emergency car repair, and gas...incase Baby had a problem. Although his sneaking out wasn't really sneaking out it would look suspicious if he called Benny at 2am to tell him he was holed up in a sex club with a broken car. Dean swallowed nervously, he could leave; he hadn't comited to anything. He could just up and go, right now! Dean thought about it for a moment. No! The way that Castiel had said it, so smug. Fuck him. He was more than capable, damn it! Dean would be the best damn submissive that Castiel had ever had! Then he'd go home, have a cup of coca, and having scratched the itch; be able to have a good nights sleep without a single invasive blue-eyed, dark haired, leather clad thought. 

"Dean." Castiel warned, Dean returned to the real world. Shit, this was happening! "I know we're not in a scene, but it's rude not to answer me."

"The quesions. Right." Dean tried to think. "The one about, uh, marks...and like, canes. And I'm really freaked out by all that rope stuff. I don't think I could ever trusy anyone enought to...you know...rope stuff." He said lamely.

"Of course." Castiel was understanding. "The, 'rope stuff' as you say, is definitly for more experienced players. I wouldn't dream of attempted shibari in your first scene. I thought I'd just spank you and then let you jerk yourself off in the adjoining room. Then, after care." He said it so calmly. 

Dean's eyes widened in alarm, he felt a little nauseous. This sounded like a business deal. It sounded really weird, it didn't sound sexy; just uncomfortable. Spank him? He was a grown ass man. 

"You have your safeword, which you can use anytime." Castiel continued.

"I won't need it." Dean answered quickly. Castiel raised an eyebrow.

"You might." Dean started to interupt him but Castiel silenced him by raising his finger. "And obviously the colour system in case I need to check you're okay. I won't touch you, other than spanking you during the scene, if you feel uncomfortable or in pain you must say so."

"Okay." 

"Excellent. Well Dean, why don't you come over here and we can begin." Dean was frozen to the spot. Did he seriously just agree to this? "Dean," Castiel warned, sitting on an armchair and patting his lap. Dean couldn't move. 

"Remind me of the colour system Dean." 

"Green is keep going, Yellow is slow down. Red is stop." 

"Very good. What colour are you right now Dean?" 

"Green." Dean squeaked. He was hyperaware of his breathing. He knew Castiel was comanding, but when he did the whole 'dom voice' thing, Dean thought he might actually come in his pants; like a teenager. He blushed in embarrasement at the realisation.

"Come here Dean." Castiel commanded. Dean felt himself getting hard. Thank god he was wearing jeans...although he might live to regret that decision. Castiel sighed and climbed off of his chair. He was holding something in his hand. He must've retrieved it from the side table.

"Hold out your hands." Dean did as he was asked. "Good boy." Dean blushed with shame, this was humiliating, good boy? He should leave. Why was this so damn hot? Like, stomach doing summer saults turned on. Castiel cuffed his wrists and brought him towards the chair.

"Diobeying me like that, it's disrespectful." Castiel said, pulling Dean across his lap. "Hmm?" 

"Yes." Dean answered meekly after Castiel had nudged him. His hands were now resting comfortably on Dean's lower back. 

Despite being probably taller than Castiel, Dean had never felt so small. 

"Yes, what?" Castiel asked, absently tracing patterns along Dean's spine.

"Yes, Castiel." Dean said, Castiel hummed in approval but Dean knew he coiuld do one better. "Yes, sir." 

Castiel shifted beneath him, Dean grinned.

"Bad behaviour, Dean, results in punishment." He was changing the subject, moving the conversation along. But Dean could hear Castiel smiling. He could feel him, tight in his leather pants against Dean's abdomen. His hand came down hard and fast on Dean's denim clad ass. Dean almost gasped in surprise. 

Then he did it again. Even harder than before! Castiel continued to smack his arse and upper thighs until Dean was writhing against him for release. 

"I'm sorry sir." Dean said, desperatly trying to get some friction. Taking freedom from his loss of dignity. Not even sparing a thought for his situation - only the feel of Castiel's hand on his butt and his lap on his abdomen. It was so simple; do something wrong, apologise. Nothing to it! And Dean loved it. 

"Sorry for what Dean?" Castiel held him still and Dean whimpered.

"I'm sorry I didn't come when you called!" Dean whined.

Castiel sniggered. "Would you like to come now?" Wasn't that against company policy? Ah! Who cares?

"Yes, please sir." 

"How much would you like to come now?" 

"So much." 

"Hmm." 

"Please sir!" Dean nuzzled against Castiel's thigh, breathless from his punishment. "Please let me come sir."

"How can I resist! You have my permission." Dean relaxed against Castiel's thigh, having ruined his jeans the moment Castiel gave him permission. He could still feel Castiel, impossibly hard against him.

"You did so well." Castiel said, pulling him up and wrapping his arms around him. "So good for me." Dean didn't answer, he just blushed as Castiel sung his praises.

"Thanks Cas."

"Cas?" Castiel raised an eyebrow.

"Castiel's a bit of a mouthful when I'm..." Dean felt a little awkward.

"When you're coming , writhing in pleasure on my lap?" Wow.

"Yeah... " Dean sucked in a breath and replayed the lad few seconds. "Hey! I wasn't 'writhing'!" 

"You were!" Cas said, pulling Dean into a cuddle on his lap. "You were squirming and begging and I just wish I could see that little ass of yours. I bet it's red." Cas bit his lip, great; now he was thinking about Dean's ass!

He was a customer, he was paying for this. Castiel couldn't lose his job over one incredibly hot young man. 

Dean's green eyes met his, those cute little crinkles at the sides where he'd been laughing. Castiel smiled at him and Dean buried his face in his neck.

Totally professional. Don't get hard. Again... oh shit.

"Do you need to?"

Old ladies, naked, having sex with other old ladies... and also animals and um... lots of blood and a horrible decapitation. Damn it! Dean's smile, Dean's eyes, Dean's shirtless body. Dean shifting on his lap because of his sore ass.

"No." Castiel answered, a little flustered. "How was your first scene?" He was a professional.

"Pretty awesome." Dean blushed. "A little uncomfortable now..." He glanced self consciously at his crotch. "Can I clean up?" 

"Sure." Castiel smiled, "en suite. Just there." He pointed to a door in the corner of the room.

Dean was running his eyes over Castiel's body, breathing in the smell of his arousal, feeling the salt of his sweat against his skin.

"If you want to clean up, Dean, you might have to get up." Castiel teased.

"Shut up!" Dean said, clambering off Castiel's lap. Castiel grabbed his arm and suddenly his expression was thunderous.

"Remember who you're talking to, Dean."

Dean audibly swallowed. "Yes sir."

"Good, now go get cleaned up." He instructed. 

"Yes sir."

"And what do you say?" Like a chiding parent. 

"Thank you sir." Dean studied the ground.

"Good boy." Castiel ran his hand over Dean's face. 

Professional. He couldn't lose this job. Professional.


	8. Eight

Dean was still smiling, sprawled across his bed in the after glow. Despite the fact it was almost thirty minutes after the actual...event. Castiel. Dean rolled over, he felt about as emotionally stable as a teen girl.   
Borderline writing his name with a heart above the I in pink and making out with it.   
Shit.  
What was happening? Dean shook his head to dislodge the thoughts he didn't remember settling there.   
"Oh god." He hid his head in his hands. What the fuck had he actually just done? He'd let that stranger do... That handsome stranger, in those leather pants with his proud smirks and easily given praise...  
He could never return, the shame!  
But, he had to go back.  
He buried himself in his pillow to block out the train wreck of emotion clouding his thoughts.   
What was happening?   
Shit. Shit. Shit.   
He wasn't gay, right? Did this make him gay? 

Returning proably wasn't the best idea, but he couldn't resist. Castiel was like a drug, addictive. He walked over to the bouncer, shame mixing with the adrenaline. He'd waited a week, at least. Wasn't like he was totally smitten or anything.   
"Proof of age. Forty dollar entry fee." He said tiredly, it was the same man as before. Dean obliged and then slipped into the club. The music was just as loud as he remembered and the atmosphere, once terrifying, was now intoxicating. This was fast becoming a hobby.   
He unzipped his hoodie to reveal the black leather pentagram harness he had gone to the trouble of purchasing. Not smitten, he reminded himself uselessly.   
"Hey, is Castiel free?" He smiled.   
"He can be." The woman behind the desk in the dimly lit office grinned at him and chewed her pencil.  
"Uh?"  
"You want to book a scene? You know he doesn't switch." She seemed confused.  
"I know..." Dean said sheepishly.  
"Oh." Her eyes widened and then she just shrugged. "He's free now. I'll notify him. You got a name?"  
"No." Dean replied, he didn't have a name in here.  
"Okay sweetie." Not giving a name wasn't exactly strange in this line of business. "Okay, he said to send you straight up. Room four."  
Dean didn't think it was the same room as last time. He stopped by the bar and ordered a whisky. Castiel could wait, his nerves could not.

"You're late." Castiel was simmering in the corner of the room on a chair similar to the one they'd used in their first scene.   
"Thank you for noticing?" Dean smirked.   
Cas huffed and returned to his notepad.   
"What are those?"   
"Your notes."   
"You don't remember." God, Dean was so stupid. Castiel didn't give a damn about him. He began to feel a little shy, backing towards the door.   
"I just wanted to check your stance on a couple of the things I wanted to use today."   
"And what are those?"   
"If you'd been on time, I would've told you." Castiel said curtly, rising from his chair. "Now, today I'd like to test a theory."   
"A theory?"   
"Is there an echo in here?"   
"No..." Was that a joke?   
Castiel raised an eyebrow.   
"No, what? Forgetting your manners so early." He tutted.  
"No, sir." Dean really emphasised the 'sir'.  
"Don't be cheeky, it's unbecoming." Castiel warned, picking a cane up off of the wall of, well, weapons - Dean guessed. He pulled two tiny shimmering metal things out of his pocket. Dean flinched in fear.   
"Colour?"   
"Green." Dean said nervously.   
"Hands behind your back, right wrist in your left hand." Dean obeyed. "Straighten your back." Castiel tapped him with the cane and he quickly did as he was told. "Good boy." Castiel praised.  
Castiel was tempted, so tempted, to touch Dean. To caress his firm exposed bicep, pull him closer and card his fingers through his hair. He could hardly make out the colour in the poorly lit room. But occasionally he could see freckles, dainty freckles, when he got close enough. Castiel wanted to count them.  
He put the cane down and pulled one of the metal things out of his hand.  
"Look at the wall." He instructed, Dean found a spot to focus on. It was hard, he wanted to watch what Castiel was doing.  
"Fuck-ing hell!" Dean jumped as he felt something clench around his left nipple.  
"Does that hurt?" Castiel mocked. "I didn't know!" He chuckled a little and then was serious. "Colour Dean?"   
"Gr-Green." He stuttered, wanting to run from the pain but at the same time he was hard.   
"Curious." Castiel added the second one and Dean cursed again, this time more quietly.   
"What do you think of these?" Castiel flicked the right one and Dean tried not to moan. When he did it again, Dean couldn't stop himself. He blushed.   
"I thought so." He smiled. Dean's eyes flickered to Castiel's predatory grin. The idea of Castiel power made him feel weak in the knees.   
"You thought what, sir?" Dean asked, gritting his teeth as Castiel turned one of the clamps anticlockwise. He was toying with him.   
"Do you know what a masochist is?" Castiel began to walk a slow circle around him. Tempted to gently touch Dean's ass but resisting, against company policy. Dean shivered at his proximity.  
"Yes, sir."  
"Definition, please."  
"I- I don't know...sir."  
"Okay, so you mean't know. Lets try again," Castiel twisted one clamp whilst pulling the other. Dean buckled under his clever hands and was barely keeping himself standing. Panting with the effort. "Do you know what a masochist is?"  
"No, sir."  
"Good boy! Masochism is the tendency to derive sexual gratification from one's own pain or humiliation. Would you like me to say that again, or can you remember it?" He released the clamps and Dean sighed. His nipples were surely red from the assault. Castiel gently ran a hand over his chest and Dean unconsciously leaned towards the touch which was quickly retracted. "Say it for me Dean."   
"Masochism is the, uh, tendency to derive sexual gratification from...from one's own pain or humiliation."   
"Again."  
"Masochism is the tendency to derive sexual gratification from one's own pain or, uh, humiliation."   
"Hands out front, palms up." Dean hesitated but obeyed. "Good boy. Hold this for me." Castiel laid the cane in his hands. It was a couple of centimetres in diameter, surprisingly heavy. "Don't grip, balance. Again!" Castiel was out of Dean's vision and he could just see something moving in his peripheral vision.   
"Masochism is the tendency to," Castiel put a heavy weight on one end of the cane and Dean struggled to balance it.   
"Did I say you could stop?" Castiel tugged one of the clamps harshly and Dean inhaled sharply.   
"No, sir. Masochism is the tendency to derive sexual grati-" Another weight on the opposite end. "fication from one's own pain or humiliation."   
Castiel got a bucket from one side of the room, Dean heard it scraping across the floor.   
"I don't think it's quite sunk in, again if you would." The bucket made the weights slide around on the cane and Dean quickly glanced and saw they were doughnut shaped.   
"No." Castiel's hand slapped his ass as he passed. Dean corrected his vision and stood straighter. "Again." He began to screw paper into balls and aim it for the bucket, occasionally missing and hitting Dean's bare back. Dean was struggling to hold the single bucket up and his hands were stretched further.  
"Masochism is the tendency to derive,"Castiel came closer and nudged his legs apart, giving Dean more stability and then added a second object to the opposite end to the bucket. "Sexual gratification from one's own pain or humiliation." Castiel continued to throw paper balls into the bucket.   
"I'm going to go and get something. I suggest you bear your lesson in mind." He opened the door and stepped into the hallway. "And don't move."   
Castiel took forever! Dean's arms were getting tired and he was so tempted to look at the objects but he knew Castiel would be unhappy if he did. He felt the bucket begin to slip, he corrected it a little to hard and now the other object was slipping.  
"Shit." He cursed, looking and stabilising himself.   
"Did you miss me?"   
"Yes sir."   
"Did you do anything while I was gone?" He asked, setting something down in the chair and coming around to face Dean who's eyes were still on his spot on the wall.   
Don't tell him, don't tell him, "Yes, I felt the bucket slipping and so I looked to correct it, sir." He bowed his head as much as he could, in shame, eyes still on the point on the wall.  
"Good boy for telling me." Castiel praised. "Think you can balance this on your head?" Castiel held a large book in front of him.  
"Honestly? No sir." He chuckled.   
"Don't doubt yourself, you're doing excellently so far." Castiel placed the book carefully on Dean's head and returned to the chair. Dean's breathing became laboured.   
"Again." Again? Again what! Dean panicked.   
"Uh, Masochism is...shit. Masochism is the, uh, tendency to derive sexual...sexual gratification from...from uh. One's pain or humiliation."   
"Close." Castiel threw a paper ball at the back of his head. Dean cursed under his breath.  
"What was that?"   
"Nothing sir. Sorry sir."   
"Again, if you please."   
"Masochism is the tendency to derive sexual gratification from one's own pain or humiliation." Dean moaned as Castiel pulled on the clamp.   
"A little louder please." He whispered in Dean's ear.   
"Masochism is the tenden-en--en!" Dean wanted to move, he wanted to grind into Castiel.   
"Please, don't stop on my account." Castiel said smugly.   
Fuck him! Dean could do this. "Masochism is the tendency to, oh my god another one?" Castiel raised an eyebrow at the interruption as he added a chain between the two clamps and pulled on it gently causing Dean to moan and try to arch in pleasure, knocking the book from his head onto the floor. Castiel tutted, retrieving the book and returning it to Dean's head. He was panting heavily.   
"I didn't say you could stop."   
"What? Oh. Masochism is the tendency to derive sexual gratification from one's own pain or humiliation." Castiel began toying with the chain.  
"I think we can do one better, don't you?"   
"Yes sir. Anything sir." He panted.   
"That's what I like to hear!" He returned to his chair to retrieve something and Dean felt an extra weight on his head. "Stay very still. Would you like to see yourself? You're beautiful like this." Shit! He wasn't supposed to say that. Castiel panicked a little as he got the mirror. Luckily Dean didn't notice his slip.  
"Yes sir. Please sir. Show me what you've done." Dean couldn't see him so Castiel palmed his own throbbing erection. God! Why did he have to be so beautiful and so well behaved! Ugh.   
"See. Aren't you good for me?"   
"Yes sir. I'm so good." It was a vase, balanced on the book. Pretty fucking impressive.   
"Ten more seconds, then you're done for today. Can you do that for me?"   
"Yes sir!" Dean grunted.   
Ten long seconds passed and then Castiel removed the book and vase from his head, placing it on the floor. Dean rolled his neck.   
"Wait until you're dismissed." Castiel growled, taking the cane from him and setting the buckets on the floor. "Hands in the correct position." Dean had to think for a second before he returned his hands to their starting position. One hand clasped the other wrist. Castiel walked around the back of him, correcting his hands. "Other way round." He whispered, so close to Dean.   
"Have you learned your lesson?"   
"I think so, sir."   
"You think so?"   
"I think that I'm a masochist sir."   
"Go on."   
"I tend to derive sexual gratification from my own pain or humiliation, sir."   
"And you're very good at balancing things! What do you say?"  
"Thank you sir."  
"Dismissed. You did so well, you can relax now."   
Dean's shoulders dropped, he was grinning.   
"How was that?"   
"Awesome." He choked out. "Fuck that was hot." He blushed. "I totally wasn't expecting it to be. I didn't even know I could do that!"   
"Huh." Cas chuckled. "Well, now you know."   
"You really think I'm a masochist?" Castiel pinched one of Dean's sore nipples and he couldn't help but yelp and then moan.   
"Yes. I do." He stared into Dean's green eyes, soaking in all the energy radiating off of the handsome man.   
"Cool, do we just hang out then?" Dean smiled.  
"Yes. Would you like some water and chocolate?"   
"Yeah," Dean scratched the back of his neck. "That would be great, thanks."


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: cliffhanger

Fine. This time he had no choice but to admit that this looked a little desperate. He hadn't even waited a week this time. So desperate for his next 'appointment'. To the point where just thinking about all the things 'Castiel' had already done to him, or threatened to do to him got him hard. To the point where he consistently masturbated to a leather clad figure wielding all manners of equiptment. He'd waited three days, that counted for something right? 

Dean shivered in antipaction as he opened the package, containing his surprise for Castiel this evening.He was quite fond of his original leather harness, but if he intended on making this a twice weekly occurence, why not splash out on some proper equiptment? He pulled the beautiful item out of it's packaging and admired it in the sunlight that was streaming through his bedroom window. Perfect. Castiel would love it.

Would Castiel love it? He'd never mentioned that he liked the harness before...Dean's brow furrowed in worry. The lines grew deeper when he realised that he actually cared what Castiel thought. Castiel who stayed with him for over an hour less than three days ago to 'make sure the scene wasn't to taxing.' Castiel who should mean nothing to him! Castiel. Adorable, sweet, terrifying, gorgeous, sexy Castiel. His master.

Where the fuck did that come from!?

Oh god. What was he doing? Dean threw the new harness back into it's packaging as if it was cursed and launched himself onto the bed. 

What was he doing?! 

This was not how the sons of famous billionare's behave. What would the papers think? Dean felt a sharp stab of panic constricting his chest. 

"Dean?" A surly voice called from outside fo his room. He dived for the package, throwing it into his wardobe as Benny approched.

"Dean?" Benny called again, Dean could hear his fotsteps just outside of his room.

"In here!" Dean replied, finding his voice a little higher than usual and his pants a little tighter from thinking about Castiel.

Benny knocked his hand lightly against the door. "Can I come in?" 

Dean quickly checked his chubby hadn't done anything while he wasn't looking, and then replied. "Sure." As casually as he could manage, sitting more comfortably on the bed and trying to look at ease. Jesus! This was his damn room. He shouldn't feel this, weird, in his own fucking bedroom.

"I presume you'll be wanting us all out of the house again." Benny smiled, running his hand over his beard. Benny only did that when he was nervous; what wasn't he telling Dean?

"What is it Benny?" Dean sighed, staring his friend down.

"Brother, it's no secret you're going out. I'd be far happier if I was to atleast know where you were going. I don't even mind if it's illegal, I mean obviously I do care if it's illegal! But, ugh. You know what I mean brother. Better for you not to get the shit beat out of you by a pimp and let me know. You understand, brother. Do we have to do the whole saftey speech again?" 

"Benny!" Dean groaned, remembering the damn 'saftey speech' "I'm a grown man. I took self defence classes for a reason. Plus, I'm not leaving the house! What gave you that idea?" Dean flashed a smile cheekily and Benny sighed.

"Alright, brother. Enjoy your night in." He closed the door behind him sceptically. Once Dean was sure that Benny was totally gone he returned to his packadge. 

Drawing careful lines with his fingertips over harness tracing the intricate design and breathing in the smell of leather. Another few hours, he told himself. Another few hours and he'd be where he belonged, with Castiel. 

 

"Proof of age, forty dollar entr-" Dean pushed the money into the man's hand and flashed him his licence. 

"Forty dollar entry fee." The man seemed peterbed at his interuption, taking the money and plucking Dean's licence out of his hand to inspect it closer. He handed it back once he had determined that Dean was not, in fact, underage. 

"Thanks." Dean said curtly, moving around on the spot a little, it was freezing out here! And he was only wearing a thin hoodie over his new harness. 

He undressed quickly, booking his place with Castiel and then heading to the bar. He had an hour to kill. What was he going to do with an hour?

 

Turns out, not much. There was an alcohol limit for consent reasons and so he was only allowed a couple of units worth of drinks. Which translated to two shots. Which he savoured. Then he had headed over to explore the ground floor of the complex. Choking on thick smoke as he crossed past an archway into one of the large downstairs room, the room itself was murky from a fog like smoke and Dean could only make out the light of bright cigarettes and the occasional moans; of both pain and pleasure. Dean wasn't a fan of smoke and had never smoked himself, he swiftly you avoided the entrance and soon stumbled across a narrow stair case. In an attempt to escape the choking smoke that had filtered into the hallway he headed upstairs to the 'exhabitionist's playroom'. It was huge, with magestic arched cellings, something so beautiful hidden in a building that looked so dull from the outside.

A woman was suspended from the celling, on taut red ropes.So still and unmoving that Dean briefly entertained the notion that she might, in fact, just be dead. Benny was right, shady places like these were the perfect opportunities for murder. Although Dean had to admit there was a certain finess to her bonds, knots that Dean couldn't possibly name across body parts he didn't want to name; creating an effect that left both him and many others around him totally breathless. If he wasn't so uncomfortable with his peers masturbating to the sight he wouldn've said something pathetic along the lines of 'woah.' or perhaps 'that looks uncomfortable.'

"Admiring Master Azazel's work?" A husky voice inquired, from close behind him. He could smell cigarettes, barley masking the scent of someone that was unmistakably Castiel. Dean inhaled sharply.

"It's pretty impressive, but I wouldn't want to be up there in her place." Dean motioned to the woman dangling twelve feet off of the ground.

"Shame." Castiel remarked, Dean turned to face him with wide eyes. He was watching the woman and evidently deep in thought. Dean furrowed his brow questioningly. "You'd look so pretty up there."

Dean blushed, and in the bright light of this room it was hard to hide. The red of his cheeks making his freckles stand out even more. Castiel turned his face towards him and smield, licking his lips as he studied every detail of Dean's face.

"What?" Dean asked when Castiel's staring became more intense than ever.

"Nothing. I've just never seen you in the light before...You're beautiful." Castiel rasied his hand as if to touch Dean's face, they were so close together, he could just..His hand dropped when he remembered the club rules. He sighed with exasperated annoyance. Dean wasn't worth his job. Dean looked at him with barely masked disappointment. 

"Shall we." He offered instead, clearing his throat and leading Dean across the hall towards another entrance to the hall with the private playrooms. 

"You're not going to tie me up. Not tie me up, that's be fine... but like UP up. Are you?" Dean stuttered nervously.

"I'm not going to suspend you today. Maybe someother time." Castiel chuckled, opening the door and entering the room. "I've got everything we need for this session, right here."

Dean surveyed the room. Castiel was increasing the brightness of the dim light, by twiddling a nob on the other side of the room.

"Any reason for the spotlight?" Dean winced, covering his eyes.

"It won't effect you." Castiel said. But before Dean could ask him why that was he had presented him with the answer - a blindfold. 

He secured it around Dean's eyes and the whole world was plunged into darkness...


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little... *smirks* cold.

"So, today we're going to be playing with some of these." Castiel said, stirring something that made a distinctive clinking noise, glass? Dean didn't quite have a good enough idea of the shape of the room to work out where Castiel's voice was coming from and so it came as quite a shock when a hand was firmly planted on his shoulder, pushing downward and indicating that he should kneel. Dean dropped blinding down, onto the cushion that Castiel had thoughtfully placed before him. For some crazy reason Dean trusted Castiel not to hurt him.

The hand moved to his jaw, tracing along his cheekbone and then quickly retracting, as if realising what it was doing was somehow inappropriate.  
"Open your mouth." Castiel commanded, he was so close that Dean could feel the warmth of his breath on his face. Dean did as he was asked.  
"Stick out your tongue." Dean complied. Presenting his pink tongue, making himself vulnerable to the darkness around him.

Castiel, who was crouching on the ground before Dean, placed an ice cube on Dean's tongue and Dean jumped in surprise. Luckily closing his mouth in time to save the ice cube from hitting the floor. Unfortunately his jumping had landed him in a sort of sidesaddle position, with his legs askew.  
"Ah, ah! No." Castiel gently guided Dean back into position. Placing Dean's hands palm up on his thighs. "Something tells me you might need a lesson in submissive etiquette." He tutted playfully. "Open your mouth." His tone become more instructive.

"Yes sir." Dean tried to say around his ice cube. Castiel chuckled at his attempt.  
He could feel the ice cube slowly melting on his tongue - His tongue had become slightly numb. When it had finally melted, Castiel spoke again.

"Colour?" He asked conversationally.  
"Green, sir."  
"Good boy." Castiel placed two other ice cubes in Dean's palms and sauntered off to the other side of the room to gather some other equipment. Dean could hear his leather motorbike boots against the floor, his languid pace as he organised whatever it was he was organising.

Dean could feel the cold water pooling in his hands, he wondered when -if - Castiel was going to return. Trying to conserve the water by cupping his palms. He didn't want to fail hi; he wanted to impress Castiel with his obedience - God knows why.  
"You're doing well." Castiel complemented.  
"Thank you sir." Dean shivered slightly, the room wasn't exactly warm and he was practically shirtless. It wasn't like Castiel's praise was having that sort of effect on him.  
"You're perfect."  
Dean shivered again. Fuck. He felt a hand in his hair, guiding him to his feet and then hands on his lower back.

"I'm going to lay you down on this table. Colour?"  
"Green."  
"Green, what?" Castiel slapped his ass and Dean jumped in surprise.  
"Green, sir." He quickly corrected as Castiel helped him to lay back on the table.  
"I'm going to fasten you to the table." Castiel informed him. Dean felt a cuff tighten his left wrist to the table, hearing the sound of the buckle slot in place, and then the same sensation on his ankle. When Castiel finished, he was utterly immobilised.  
"Colour?"  
"Green, sir." Dean breathed. Somehow being totally helpless was practically a muscle relaxant. He felt all the tension drain away as he was put totally at his master's mercy. Fuck. Not his master's mercy. Castiel wasn't his.  
"Good boy." Castiel said. He wasn't expecting this to effect him as much as it did. But Dean just looked so perfect. He was so perfect.

Dean let out an undignified noise as Castiel trailed the first, painfully cold, ice cube across Dean's hardening nipple and around the shape of the harness on his sensitive bare chest. Once it had melted on Dean's hot skin he began again with a second one. Dean could feel himself growing hard in his jeans. Unable to hide his erection from Castiel in this position, he felt his face flush red. Castiel only chuckled.

"Did you know, if a condom is filled with water and frozen you can use it as an ice dildo. Isn't that marvellous." Castiel mused as he dropped a tiny sliver of ice into Dean's belly button and watched him flex against his bonds. Tantalisingly trailing the other cubes down to the V of his hips, not daring to venture any further. The tongs were pushing it, at least it wasn't Castiel's fingers holding the ice cube otherwise he really would be in trouble.

"Would you like to use one of those on me, sir?'" Dean inquired, chuckling a little. Castiel pinched his nipple as punishment for his undignified laughing and Dean immediately stopped. That was when Castiel realised that he had in fact been saying his more private ideas out loud. Shit. It was a good thing Dean had a blindfold on otherwise he might have seen Castiel's tortured expression as he tried to maintain his calm demeanour.

"Sir?" Castiel had stopped moving, the ice cube.  
"Yes." Castiel said politely.  
"Touch me." Dean said breathily and suddenly all of Castiel's inhibitions were flung from his mind. He pressed his fingertips into Dean's warm, wet skin. The tongs clattering onto the floor. Tracing the lines of his beautiful leather harness and hooking his fingertips underneath. He'd wanted to do this for so long. Dean moaned at the much wanted contact. Bucking against his bonds to get closer to Castiel. Castiel teasingly dragged his fingertips across Dean's body, so tempted to kiss, to bite, to suck. To make this strange, beautiful, obedient man his.  
But something was wrong, something was holding him back....

"You need to leave." Castiel said, pulling back from the writing body beneath him. Horrified at his actions. Looking at his fingertips as if they had been the ones to betray him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger. Mu ha ha ha


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Dean is an idiot.

  
What?" Dean panted, trying to sit up and failing.  
"You need to go." Castiel repeated, undoing the cuffs and taking off Dean's blindfold.  
"Why?" Dean looked confused, sitting up on the table and studying Castiel in the bright light.  
"I can't" Castiel looked...frightened.  
"You can't?" Dean furrowed his brow in confusion and disappointment. "You don't like me." Dean translated, looking down as he came to terms with his rejection.  
Castiel should have left it there, no one gets hurt: Dean walks away, a little broken-hearted but fine; and Castiel, Castiel keeps his job. He should have just left it there.  
Castiel ran his hand across his face.  
"It's not that! You can't. I can't" Castiel sighed. "Just...Just leave."  
Dean looked crestfallen, but retained a little hope in his eyes as he left the room, leaving a broken Castiel to collapse in a chair and whisper to himself.  
Clutching his bottle of water tightly in his hand. Dean realised why Castiel had kicked him out he wasn't good enough, he could be better! He could show Castiel how good he could be. He would show him.  
"Hey?" Dean said, tapping the shoulder of the first friend he'd made in this cesspool. Latex-guy.  
\--------  
He shouldn't have done it. He regretted it from the moment Dean walked out. The alcohol wasn't helping. The men weren't helping. But he kept drinking and dancing as if somehow overdosing on common 'joy' would somehow fix his own predicament.  
Shots. Shots. Shots.  
Crowley would be furious, abandoning his post like that.  
Another drink over here darling. Crowley would be utterly fuming but no one could be madder at Castiel than himself. He hadn't exactly travelled far to get to the bar, it was attached by a corridor onto the building which housed the club and was only a few seconds walk from what Crowley often referred to as the 'staff room'. That was how he'd met the green eyed disaster in the first place. The green eyed disaster he so wanted for his own. Castiel downed his drink and staggered out into the cool night air.  
"Need some help there?" A young man asked. He was attractive, Castiel could hardly see him in the dim light; but he sounded attractive.  
"Yeah." Castiel slurred, accepting the beautiful man's arm. No, he wasn't beautiful; Dean was beautiful. This man was handsome. With cloudy green eyes and brown hair. He wasn't Dean, but Castiel couldn't have Dean so the handsome man would have to do.  
"My place is just around the corner." Castiel managed not to slur his words this time. "Want to come in?" It wasn't an offer for coffee. The man nodded yes and Castiel unlocked the door. Pulling off his trenchcoat to reveal his leather pants.  
"Kinky." The handsome man complemented.  
"You have no idea." Castiel replied, pushing him up against the wall.  
\-------  
His head was pounding when he woke up, the phone frantically vibrating across his side table. His evening entertainment had long since left. Almost immediately after Castiel had called Dean's name while fucking him violently into the mattress. Castiel rubbed his head and rolled over.  
"Cassie!" Gabriel's shrill voice came through the phone.  
"Hey." Cas replied groggily,  
"Caspian Novak. I really hope you are not hungover! You're supposed to be taking me out today!" Gabriel whined.  
"What? I'm not hungover. Speak slower." Cas said as he downed a glass of water and a handful of paracetamol.  
Gabriel sighed, the pitch of his voice slightly muffled by the bad connection.  
"I'll pick you up at two okay?" Cas said retrieving his clothes from the floor and heading towards the bathroom. He still smelt like the club. Not that his shitty rented apartment smelt much better, but he didn't want his little brother to think even less of him then he did already.  
"See you at two Cassie."  
"Don't call me-" Gabriel hung up. "That." Cas said to no one in particular as he grabbed a towel from the pile of clean laundry and put his phone on the side.  
Last night had been a mistake. Kicking Dean out had been a mistake. But he couldn't have a relationship with one of his customers. What if he had gone through with it, if they had slept together? Crowley didn't give a shit if you wanted to whore yourself out in the alley behind the club but anything done on his property could end up with a lawsuit. Cas wasn't a prostitute, but the law wouldn't care. He'd been in jail for less.  
Even if they'd been able to keep it in their pants all the way back to Cas' apartment. What if Dean wanted a relationship? Cas couldn't be monogamous, not with his line of work. And nowhere else would employ him on account of his colourful criminal record. Castiel hit his pounding head against the grimy tiled wall, allowing the trickle of water to soothe this aching mind.  
If he lost his job then he'd never win Gabriel's custody. He needed his job. He needed to get his baby brother back.  
\-------  
Dean was confident it would work. Latex-guy had assured him it would. Nothing would be more impressive.  
Castiel's squinted at Alistair's new customer through the dim lighting of the playroom, dark rings under his eyes from lack of sleep and copious amounts of alcohol, since he'd turned Dean away a couple of nights before.  
"Thanks." Castiel said as Alistair handed him another drink.  
"Hey Castiel." Dean said sheepishly.  
"What are you doing here?" Castiel said in a clipped and even tone. It was evident he was hiding his annoyance.  
"Subbing for Master Alistair. Sir." He nodded his head towards Alistair and Castiel stared daggers. Castiel clenched his teeth in warning but Dean blatantly ignored his body language.  
"Dean." His tone was hushed as he came closer, he wasn't supposed to say that outside of their playroom. He must be pissed.  
"Yes, Castiel?" Dean said innocently.  
"What are you doing?"  
"I already told you."  
"I'm ready for you darling." Alistair smiled wolfishly at the fresh meat that had so willingly sacrificed itself.  
Dean winked at Castiel as he pushed past him.  
"Staying Castiel?" Alistair enquired. "You okay with that?" He motioned towards Dean.  
"Yes, sir." Dean answered. Within moments Alistair was pulling him by his hair to the St Andrew's cross and harshly strapping him down. Dean whelped at Alistair's sharp grip but managed to keep himself under control.  
"So, my little slut. Need to be punished?" Alistair asked, running the tails of the flogger across Dean's bare back, once he was secured. He brought it down hard when Dean didn't immediately answer. "Hmm?"  
"Yes, sir." Dean winced. He had to endure the pain. For Castiel.  
Castiel, whom was leaning against the wall watching with disdain and a strange fascination. If Dean could see him from his current position he might have called off the entire thing. But he could not.  
Castiel looked pissed, not impressed, utterly fuming. Then again, perhaps a spark of jealously would fuel him. Dean would take anything he could get.  
Another sharp crack of the whip. Dean almost cried out, this was far more painful then he had imagined.  
"What do we say?" Alistair taunted.  
"I don't know, Sir. I'm sorry, sir." Dean said through gritted teeth as the next strike hit him.  
"Thank you sir." Alistair mimicked. Miming listening and when he didn't immediately hear the appropriate phrase bringing the whip down again across Dean's upper back.  
"Thank you sir."  
And again.  
"Thank you sir."  
And again.  
"Thank you sir! " On this strike Dean had cried out, sure he would be bruised.  
"Need to safeword, slut? Can't handle the heat." Alistair sniggered.  
"I'm fine. Sir." Dean said through gritted teeth, which earned him a sharp crack of the whip and something he was sure cut right though to the bone. This was torture, did Castiel really like this?  
Dean groaned loudly as the new welts crossed his artfully placed injuries.  
"Thank you sir." He hoped Castiel liked what he saw.  
"Stop." A husky voice said from the dark.  
"Excuse me Castiel?" Alistair said. Turning the flogger in his hands and surveying his handy work. Leaving Dean to pant and prepare for the next strike, relaxing himself against the sweaty leather of the cross, at least it was padded.  
"You heard me Alistair." Castiel spat.  
"I'm obliged to finish the scene." Alistair answered curtly. "Unless my sub wants to stop." He turned away from the fuming Castiel and raised his voice. "Want to stop, slut?"  
"No sir." Dean said quietly.  
"Give me the flogger." Castiel said, "If he insists on this madness, I want to finish the job."  
Alistair held firm, but upon seeing Castiel simply shrugged, and handed Castiel the flogger. Once Alistair had stepped outside of the playroom Castiel spoke again.  
"Gabriel." He said loudly, dropping the flogger and rushing to the cross.  
"What?" Dean breathed, confusion overtaking the delirium. His sweaty cheek resting against the leather of the cross as he turned to look at Cas. Castiel made quick work of the bonds and Dean collapsed onto the floor, his legs like jelly. Luckily Castiel was able to catch him before he did any damage.  
"Gabriel?" He questioned.  
"It's my safe-word." Castiel replied, "Same way that you do, I have the right to stop a scene at any point - most of the time the submissive gets refunded; so...uh...don't worry about the money." He said pulling the damaged man into his lap and pressing his face into Dean's hair.  
"Why did you do that Dean?" He asked more quietly.  
"I wanted, I wanted to impress you. I'm not worried about the money. A hundred dollars, it's small change." Dean said, the welts aching against Castiel's skin; but he wouldn't trade anything in the world for this moment.  
"You idiot." Castiel wrapped his arms tighter around Dean and planted a kiss to his head.  
"Does this mean-" Dean croaked.  
"No." Castiel said sadly. "I can't lose my job, Dean." He had to word the next part of his sentence very carefully."People depend on me.". Gabriel depends on him, he couldn't leave him at that shitty foster home.  
"And it's too much to ask you to work elsewhere..." He was nodding, as if he had already come to terms with the loss. So sweet, Dean didn't want to impose.  
"I can't work elsewhere. Criminal record. The only reason I got this job is because I slept with Crowley."  
Dean shuddered, he'd never seen the man himself; but with a name like 'Crowley', and a club like this he was bound to be some slimy sugar daddy.  
"Oh." Then suddenly it hit him. "You could work for me." Dean said simply. As if it was the easiest thing in the world.  
"You're asking me to cross the line into prostitution." Cas looked surprised.  
"No!" Dean quickly defended, fleshing out his idea in his head. "You could-"  
"What other marketable skills do I have?" Cas shot him down.  
"Live-in Dom." Dean smirked.  
"But you'd want to have sex right?"  
"If you-"  
"Answer the question."  
"Yeah." Dean admitted quietly.  
"Which would make me a hooker.  
"A live-in-"  
"A live-in hooker. Dean..."  
A few awkward moments passed.  
"What do they pay you here?"  
"Enough." Castiel answered curtly.  
"I'll quadruple it. Free accommodation and food, access to the whole of my house and gardens."  
"I don't think..."  
"Please. I can afford it. Don't worry about the money. Whoever it is you're taking care of...your mum, dad, son...girlfriend." Dean visibly winced. "You can lavish them in gifts."  
"I-" Cas still seemed unsure.  
"Cas, please." Dean begged.  
"You'd pay me four times what I earn here?"  
"Yes. That is what quadruple means...right?" Dean was visibly worried.  
"Yeah." Cas chuckled.  
"So, you'll do it?"  
"I didn't say that. I think we'd need to outline my terms very clearly."  
"Okay. I can do that." Dean winced as he shifted to get a better look at Castiel.  
"Not here. Not now." Castiel added, moving Dean so he was more comfortable and then running a hand over his back.  
"We could do it at my place?" Dean asked.  
"Hush." Castiel chided, hugging him closely. "We'll sort it out later."  
"And Dean."  
"Yes."  
"I'm sorry about the other night. I shouldn't have left you high and dry like that. It's not right. I'm sorry."  
"It's okay."  
"Don't say that. It wasn't."  
"In that case. I forgive you."  
"Thank you."


	12. Note

Heya readers, I'm Iron_Mage an irl friend of & occasionally beta for Ill_write_it. 

Due to some irl stuff unfortunately Ill_write_it has been completely cutoff from the internet for the foreseeable future & thus I suggested that I act as a go between for him and type up, beta & post any of his writings from now on. To say updates will sporadic would be an understatement as I have limited contact with him & am both dyslexic (among over learning disabilities/ND stuff) & can barely read Ill_write's handwriting + my final exams are very soon meaning I'll have little time to spare & devote to this (read: I'll probably procrastinate revising and work on this instead lol). 

I plan on printing any comments & feedback/reviews for him to see + some fics & writing prompts for him to read & be inspired/motivated by. Thus i'd love if you guys would show as much support as possible for Ill_write while he goes through this particularly shitty period of his life by leaving said comments (even if it's just a smiley, <3?or links to quality memes) & maybe even some Supernatural &/or Blue Exorcist fic recs (he loves Nekos). I'm sure such content will help get the creative juices flowing ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

I'll hopefully next have contact with him around mid to late April so the quicker the comments the more likely they'll be seen & responded to.

(P.S. I meant to have posted this ages ago but saved it in drafts to look over the next day for mistakes & totally forgot I hadn't actually posted it properly...  
ill_write_it will kill me when he finds out XD rip my ADHD ass)


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